It was my dream to play college soccer, but my junior year in high school, I came down hard on my left knee, smashing it against bristly, unforgiving AstroTurf. There were no tears, no “structural damage,” but the bursa — the sac that cushions the knee joint — filled with fluid, and I could barely bend it.
Still, I kept playing, ballooning my knee only to have the bursa drained, cloudy liquid pulled into a syringe. Then I’d play again. But I wasn’t the same, and I never would be. My college dream went poof. Almost 30 years later, my knee still puffs up with too much activity, the skin almost leathery to the touch.
Even though I prolonged my injury and may even have done lasting damage, I’d been taught that pushing myself past the brink was the right approach. Just months before, I’d watched gymnast Kerri Strug famously stick her vault landing on a severely damaged ankle at the Atlanta Olympics, propelling the U.S. women’s team to the top of the podium. Everyone applauded her sacrifice, and I soaked in the message that a self-punishing mental toughness is what it takes to win.
As a culture, we applaud the gold medalists who grit it out, cheer the runners who limp across the finish line, perversely pushing themselves beyond their limits, sometimes through grisly injuries. Champions, I thought, must be able to withstand an inordinate amount of suffering.
Over the course of writing my novel Bluebird Day, about two downhill ski racers, I interviewed a few Olympic skiers and a sports psychologist, and I began intently listening to a new crop of elite athletes who were publicly talking about mental health and sports. Along the way, I realized that I — and we — have it all wrong when it comes to what it truly takes to excel and enjoy longevity as an elite athlete. The era of blind mental toughness is over (or should be), replaced with a smarter approach that I realized could also be applied to everyday life — here’s how.
Cultivate mental flexibility.
Ski racing happens to be the ultimate test in serenity. Former Paralympic ski racer Josh Sundquist said, “Every race, snow conditions change and weather shifts, so you have to train in all weather to race in all weather. Conditions can shift over the course of the day, which means skiers who race in the morning might have had better conditions than skiers who race later. Getting upset because it’s unfair can just be distracting.” The racers who can adapt, who can visualize themselves winning no matter the conditions, seem to have a healthier relationship to competition. They also bounce back more quickly from defeat.
We don’t have to careen down a mountain at 90 miles per hour to practice mental flexibility. Personally, the skill helps me shift gears with more fluidity when my kid is suddenly home sick, derailing a work day. Or it allows me to handle traveling hiccups with grace and patience.
Last summer our Airbnb in Spain delivered resplendent views — and, several times an hour, the booming sound of an air cannon firing over a nearby orchard to scare away the birds. I had to reset my expectations, settling for peace and quiet in between the booms. Either that, or I could be the complaining, disgruntled American the entire time, a prospect more draining than the noise itself. Not clenching so tightly to how I thought things ought to go brought an ease to my trip, and it showed my kids that I could walk the talk on going with the flow.
Don’t focus on the noise.
It’s not worth the mental energy or anguish to fixate on what other competitors — or friends, family members, or neighbors — are doing.
Mikaela Shiffrin, the winningest ski racer in the history of the sport, knows a thing or two about that. She told Ski Racing Media, “There have been years where I’ve been more aware of expectations, maybe even a little distracted by them. When I keep my mindset focused on skiing well, on implementing the tools, tactics, and fundamentals that I’ve been working on in training — that’s when my competition is at its highest level.”
For me as an author, putting this into practice means literally turning off the internet so I can write without distraction, or taking a social media break to stop myself from unhealthily comparing myself to other writers. And in my personal life, I try not to worry that the neighbors have already put up their Christmas lights while we still have a pumpkin rotting on the porch.
Turn the page.
Elite athletes know that raking themselves over the coals for a mistake or a loss is a counter-productive waste of energy. Six-time Olympic downhill ski racer Sarah Schleper told me, “Ski racing is all mental. If you have a bad race, you have to have the memory of a goldfish, or you will stay in the dumps — and then you won’t compete well in the next race. I learned to put it behind me as quickly as possible.”
As someone who falls asleep each night reviewing my daily “failures” — forgot to text a friend back, didn’t do my ab workout, still didn’t scoop up the rotting pumpkin — I’m learning from elite athletes’ ability to release and try again.
Develop “prime confidence.”
Sports psychologist Dr. Jim Taylor, who helps athletes up their mental games, told me about the importance of “prime confidence,” a term he coined as an alternative to “peak confidence.” He put it best on his website, saying, “Prime confidence is a deep, lasting and resilient belief in your ability to achieve your goals.” While regular confidence can wane when you experience a setback, prime confidence is unwavering. You’re also not running on bluster or an overinflated ego — which can get in the way from truly preparing and putting in the necessary hard work.
This month, I’ve been watching my six-year-old play rec basketball for the first time, heaving the heavy ball toward the too-high basket. Rarely does he make it; always does he try. He’s driven by an innate prime confidence no matter the outcome, and I’m in awe. At 44, I’m still building my own unflappable confidence so when I hear, for example, that I’ve been passed up for a freelance editor job, I don’t immediately plunge into self-doubt. I won’t make every metaphorical basket, but I don’t have to bench myself when I shoot and miss.
Lucky for me, Taylor says we can actively develop prime confidence if it doesn’t come naturally. He recommends building a mental toolbox that you can pull from in times of duress. “Tools that you can place in your mental toolbox can include inspirational thoughts and images to bolster your motivation, positive self-talk and body language to fortify your confidence, intensity control to combat confidence-depleting anxiety, keywords to maintain focus and avoid distractions and emotional-control techniques to calm yourself under pressure,” he writes.
Realize winning won’t change you.
The elite athletes most at peace with their careers are motivated by passion and even enjoyment rather than external validation. They know that getting to the top of the podium might earn them lucrative sponsorships or an invite to appear on Jimmy Kimmel, but the saying “wherever you go, there you are” applies to champions, too.
From the age of four, Toby Dawson was training to become one of the best mogul skiers of his generation, forgoing many of the typical childhood rites of passage for time on the slopes. He won the bronze medal at the Torino Olympics in 2006, but clinching the hardware wasn’t as fulfilling as he thought it would be. “I knew instantly that I had made the run of my life and that I was going to medal,” he told me. “But I wasn’t completely excited as I crossed the finish line. Instead, my first thought was, ‘Oh no, now what?’ I’d worked for years for that moment, and I wasn’t sure what to do with myself once I’d achieved it.”
Sometimes, attaining a hard-won dream ushers in a new slate of challenges. I was thrilled to finally publish my first novel in 2023 after years of working on it, but I was unprepared for how vulnerable it felt to have my work reviewed and discussed. The experience amplified existing insecurities, making me question whether I had the mental stamina to keep writing and publishing. When I focus on loving the act of writing itself instead of the payout, I stay more grounded and have a lot more fun.
I wince remembering how I had pushed myself to the brink back in high school, and I see how easy it is to still revert to that old tendency, especially with our culture’s fixation on achievement. It only took a handful of professional athletes giving me permission to not tough it out for me to finally ease off. And now, in all areas of my life — work, travel, social, family — I have a mental toolbox at the ready, a new appreciation for going with the flow, and a commitment to turning the page. I’d say that’s winning.
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Bluebird Day by Megan Tady is available now, wherever books are sold.